


Giving Up the One You Love

by XVnot15



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 09:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XVnot15/pseuds/XVnot15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wake the Muse fic-a-thon prompt:<br/>Adoption – prompted by Damelola<br/>I’ve taken this in a somewhat different direction than you might be expecting…I know, it surprised me too. ;-)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Do not upload copies of any of my fanfic anywhere online. I do not give permission for my work to be archived anywhere other than my own AO3 account, my own FF.Net account, Passion & Perfection, Royal Academy of Bards and my personal journalling accounts.
> 
> A/N I ask that you keep an open mind for this fic. It is informed and coloured by own experience as part of the Adoption Triangle. I fully understand that it may not reflect the experiences or desires of others within the Triangle or out of it for that matter. It is merely my take on the prompt subject.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine and no money involved.

The plane climbed into the rapidly darkening sky before banking to the right beginning its westward race with the sun. As the fasten seatbelt light blinked off, Andy looked out her tiny window watching the City of Blinding Lights below her and wondered what she was going to do now.

She felt a debilitating sense of anti-climax engulf her; as if her entire existence had been leading to this trip, to that singular moment in the car, and now that the moment was gone she was stuck unable to look back or to truly move forward. She was in limbo, her life directionless, with no purpose and no plan for what to do next.

She sighed once more as a single tear escaped and rolled slowly down her cheek, her newest thoughts causing her chest to tighten.  _Had Miranda found the letter she’d left in the older woman’s hotel suite, and if she had found it, had she read it. What would she do with the information the letter revealed?_

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, more tears quietly falling as she thought about those words again, the words she’d waited her whole life to hear.

_‘I see a great deal of myself in you.’_

Why? Why had they had to be said then? Why about something so awful as betraying a friend? It just… it just wasn’t fair! Intelligence, beauty, exactingness, determination, of all the attributes possessed by Miranda Priestly that Andy might like to believe she shared, ruthlessness was definitely not the one she wanted to claim. So she’d made a choice, this time _she_ walked away. Walked away but with an ember of hope still smouldering in her heart of hearts.

Hope, she had always lived on it.

***            

The hotel suite door shut behind her and Miranda leant wearily against its solidity. It was past midnight and she was tired to the bone. The last seven hours had been a complete circus with Jocelyn and Francesca madly scrambling to keep up with her as she cut her usual majestic swathe through the last show of the day, a post-show cocktail reception and Valentino’s dinner and after party.  Not once had her outward appearance given away any of her inner turmoil over Andy’s unexpected departure, continued absence and unanswered messages. Nigel, angry and hurt, had missed the show but re-appeared at the cocktail party where he had accepted Miranda’s quiet apology and promise to discuss things in private later that evening. He had been the only one to question Andy’s whereabouts and had received only the single word, _‘Gone’_ , in response.

Sighing she pushed off from the door and made her way through the suite to her bedroom. She glanced at her watch, giving a second sigh as she realised she wouldn’t have time for a shower before Nigel arrived for their talk. She was genuinely sorry for what she’d had to do to her long-time friend, but not that she’d done what was necessary to maintain both Runway and her own integrity. She would make it up to him, and couldn’t stop the small feral grin as she thought of how Irv Ravitz was going to be the one to foot the bill for that penance.

She returned to the sitting room a few minutes later having divested herself of her evening wear and made herself reasonably comfortable in her favourite grey robe. Tying the belt firmly she recalled the evening before when Andy had seen her in the robe, and detoured to her laptop on the desk hoping that perhaps the younger woman had sent an e-mail to explain her actions, and hopefully to say she was safe. Miranda had checked with the concierge when she arrived, only to be told that the girl had checked out about two hours after she’d walked away from Miranda.

As she approached the desk, Miranda noticed a plain envelope with just her name written in a clear and instantly recognised script. She picked the envelope up and reached for the letter opener in the ornate desk-set, slicing easily through the hotel issued stationary. She pulled out two sheets of paper and began to read Andy’s note.

_Dear Miranda_

_First I want to apologise. Not for leaving, which I really had to do, but for the way I did it. All I can say is that in the moment I felt it was the only thing I could do.  I left all your details and itinerary with Jocelyn as well as all the contacts she might need to make sure everything will go as smoothly as possible for the remaining day of your stay. Once again I’m sorry._

_Miranda, I have so much I need to say to you, need to explain and I just don’t know how or where to begin, except , well except maybe I just need to start at what was the beginning for me, if not for you. So here goes._

_Akron, Ohio, March 16 th 1980, 11:32 pm._

Miranda gave a small sob as recognition pierced her heart just before the world went black and she collapsed in a dead faint, the letter still clutched in her hand.

 

**********************


	2. Part 2

Nigel sat at the hotel bar nursing the same drink he’d ordered forty minutes previously. A ridiculously large tip had ensured that the bartender hadn’t bothered him with offers of a fresh drink.  The quiet had allowed him to sort through his thoughts and emotions, something he knew he needed to do before his meeting with Miranda.

The maelstrom of feelings that had been his initial reaction to the afternoon’s events had calmed and he had been busily processing ever since. He still wasn’t happy with Miranda; she had delivered the news as a true bombshell after all, with no apparent thought for how it would affect him. However upset he was with the fashionista, he was absolutely livid with James Holt and more than that, he was truly disgusted with himself, and feeling exceptionally guilty for his shortcomings. He had completely dropped the ball on this one.

He was supposed to be Miranda’s right hand, her trusted wingman, yet he hadn’t had a clue about what was going on with Irv’s machinations and he should have known damn it! He’d been so caught up in his own excitement and new relationship he’d let down his dearest friend when she had needed him most. No wonder Miranda hadn’t felt she could trust him enough to let him know of her plans, he couldn’t blame her, not really.

It had taken him only the three martinis he’d downed after the luncheon to redirect his rage and hurt at the far more appropriate culprit, James. He gritted his teeth as he remembered spending last night with the designer after the final after-party, even then it was all flowers and plans for the future. The bastard had wined, dined and bedded him with promises of a shared life in love and business, and like a naïve school boy he’d fallen for it all, hook, line and sinker.

Sighing he glanced at his watch and decided it was time for him to head up to the suite to see what could be salvaged with Miranda. It was late but he knew he’d sleep a little better once he’d made his peace with her and established where they would go from here, especially the sticky point of whether he still had a job or not.  With that unpleasant thought he downed the remains of his drink and headed out of the bar.

Knocking on the door Nigel glanced at his watch, it was nearly twenty to one, but he knew better than to think Miranda would want to wait till the morning for their talk. He knocked once more and waited but there was still no answer. Making a decision, he took out his key-card and let himself in, calling a greeting as he closed the door behind him.

“Miranda, I’ve let myself in, I’ll meet you in the lounge when you’re ready.”

Assuming Miranda must be finishing a shower or still changing he made his way to the small but well stocked bar to pour himself another drink. It wasn’t until he’d turned to face the room, that he saw the prone figure beside the desk, the shock causing his fingers to let the glass slip from his hand. His paralysis lasted only seconds before he was moving quickly to Miranda’s side.

“Miranda! Miranda can you hear me?” He gently turned the woman onto her side, considerably relieved to see her chest rising and falling in regular rhythm. He called her name again and gently patted her cheeks to try and wake her. At first there was little response, but then, just as he was deciding to call for an ambulance, the fashion maven gave a small groan and her eyes fluttered open.

“Oh, thank God!” The exclamation was followed with awkward attempts to assist Miranda as she struggled to sit up and then slowly to stand. Nigel helped her to the couch where she settled quickly, her legs unwilling to hold her up for long.

“Miranda, what happened? Do you need a doctor?” He hovered over her, uncertain what should be done, but finally sank down beside the older woman when she took his hand and pulled. The hand was shaky and the pull still rather weak, but it was accompanied with a soft negative reply to the offer of a doctor.

“Okay, no doctor, but what happened? Did you trip, hit your head? What?” He retained his hold on Miranda’s hand waiting for her to regain her composure. Watching her, he suddenly thought he now knew exactly what the term “shell-shocked” looked like.

Miranda’s body gradually began to relax until with a deep sigh Miranda let her grip on Andrea’s letter lessen and left it laying in her lap as she attempted to straighten her hair with her fingers.  She looked at Nigel and squeezed his hand in thanks for the obvious concern she saw in his eyes. They sat in silence for several minutes before Nigel once again spoke up trying to figure out what was going on.

“Miranda, please can you tell me what happened?”

“I…Andr…my…” she stumbled over the words, unable to voice the jumble of thoughts and emotions threatening to overwhelm her once again.  Finally in desperation she handed Nigel the letter and managed the simple request, “Out loud, Please.”

Nigel looked down curiously and began to read aloud, keeping his voice steady and gentle even as his sagging chin and bulging eyes gave testament to his surprise.   As he read through Andy’s explanations and the pouring out of the young girl’s heart and soul he kept a weather eye on the woman beside him, noting her reactions to the details as they unfolded.

She didn’t react much to the admission that Andy had known Miranda was her mother when she applied for the job at Runway, or that she’d taken the position in hopes of getting to know what kind of person Miranda was. Her brow creased a little in concern over the fact that Andy had not told anyone who Miranda was to her, or indeed, that she had been searching for her birth parents at all.

Seeing a tear or two make their way down Miranda’s cheek, Nigel stumbled slightly over the section where Andy described how conflicted she had felt when she had seen how wonderful Miranda was with the twins; how part of her had been jealous at that lost opportunity for herself, and another part was wholeheartedly pleased for the closeness Miranda experienced with the girls, knowing that the maternal love was definitely there, was somehow reassuring to Andy.

More explanations followed as did a sincere apology for the timing and manner of her revelation, the circumstances for which she didn’t feel she could have changed. As Nigel neared the end of the letter he gently took Miranda’s hand, holding it comfortingly as he finished.

_Miranda, I won’t lie to you and say that I don’t want to know why you gave me up, because of course I want to know that, and so much more, not least of which is the name of my father. The fact is that no matter how wonderful adoptive parents can be, and mine are the best, when you don’t know who gave you life, who you share your genes with, you suffer all your life with a primal wound that cannot be healed. It may not kill you outright, but it leaves you crippled in many ways. I’m not saying this to hurt you in any way, but to help me to try and heal, at least a little._

_That being said, although a part of me believes that you don’t actually ‘owe’ me this information, another part lives in hope that you will want to share it with me in whatever manner you can manage. I don’t expect to become part of your life unless that’s what you want, I would never dream of imposing myself on your life with the twins, and I don’t want anything from you in any public way, recognition, position or anything else.  You can also rest easy that I will not tell anyone about our connection, not even my family; it will remain our secret as long as you wish it to remain such._

_Even if I only ever get to write it, and never say it, I want you to know that after the year I’ve worked for you I can say that I’m very proud to be your child.  I love you mother, I always will._

_Your Daughter_

_Andrea_

Nigel set the paper aside and gathered a quietly crying Miranda into his arms, and just held her as he gently stroked her back. After a while the crying stopped but she stayed in the comforting embrace of her oldest friend for several long moments before finally pulling away and reaching for a tissue to dab at her red rimmed eyes.  

“Thank you Nigel. I don’t really deserve your kindness, but it is appreciated nonetheless.”

“If we always got what we deserved we’d be in a heap of trouble, me especially. Don’t worry about it.”  He reached out and took her hand again, holding it lightly between both of his hands. “Your secret is safe with me Miranda.”

Leaving her hand in his she raised an eyebrow, “Even after what happened this morning.”

Shifting a little to indicate his discomfort he gave her hands another reassuring squeeze.

“If you can forgive me for failing you by not knowing about what Irv was up to, I guess I can forgive you for doing what you had to do to thwart the little bastard. Besides it’s James who screwed me over Miranda not you, and I mean that literally.”  This time it was Miranda who gave his hands a conciliatory squeeze.

“So we’re…” Miranda began but faltered searching for the right word.

“We’re good Miranda, perhaps better than we have been for a while.”

“I will see you right Nigel, I do have something planned.”

Nigel gave a small smile at the statement but this vanished as his mind went back to this morning when he’d said almost the same thing to Andy.  Glancing down at the letter and then back to Miranda he quietly asked.

“What are you going to do about…” he trailed off.

Letting go of her friend’s hands she slumped back into the couch before whispering.

“I don’t know Nigel. I just don’t know.”

 


	3. Part 3

Andy puttered around the kitchen, grazing in the fridge and grabbing a diet soda before she returned to her spot on the couch. She nibbled on the cheese and crackers she’d snagged and idly watched the images on the TV. The volume was muted and for a while she tried to amuse herself by inventing dialogue for the figures as they appeared on the screen. The amusement soon faded, it was a game best played by at least two people and she was a single unit now sans both boyfriend and friends.

When she’d returned from Paris, Nate had already moved out and away to a new job in Boston. He’d called her and they’d managed to patch things up so that they could manage a long distance friendship. Nate had been good enough to leave behind everything except his personal possessions and kitchen equipment. He’d even stumped up for his share of the next two months’ rent. Andy sighed as she mentally repeated the wish that her friends could have been as reasonable as Nate.  Lily wasn’t speaking to her, and although Doug took her calls he had, so far, declined to meet up either at her place, his place or any neutral territory.

Her parents were away on an extended holiday visiting her aunt in Australia. She had no job and even the first interview she’d set up wasn’t until the end of the following week.  For nearly four weeks she’d been living like Robinson Crusoe on an island of one and a half million people and it was really starting to get to her.

Given her isolation it was unsurprising that she almost didn’t register when a faint knock came from her front door. The visitor knocked more loudly and Andy made her way to the door figuring it was likely a delivery guy who was lost. A seasoned New Yorker of over a year, she made sure to check the peep hole, just in case, and gasped at the sight of Miranda waiting in the hallway, impatiently tapping her foot.  No thought was required on the brunette’s part as she instantly began unlocking and opening the door. One did not keep the fashion maven waiting, even if your hands were shaking sufficiently to lose hold of the chain and deadbolt several times over.

Andy pulled the door open and looked into stormy blue eyes as she whispered, “Miranda.” She cleared her throat before continuing, “Please, um, come in.”  Stepping back and allowing the older woman to walk into the apartment, she shut the door behind them and turned to face her guest. Miranda had walked directly into the living room and stopped in front of the couch before likewise turning back toward Andy.

The older woman looked around taking note of the small but comfortable living area, eyes skimming the bookshelves, noting familiar and not so familiar titles, her glance continued taking in the kitchen/dining area and the door leading to the bedroom before returning to the living area. She looked everywhere, but avoided making eye contact with Andy. She shifted her stance slightly and began a second scan of the room apparently unwilling to be the first to break the silence.

Falling back on the cushion of social niceties, Andy finally spoke up, “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Water, if you have bottled, or coffee if it’s not too much trouble.”

Miranda gave her reply and then wandered over to the living room window and looked out on a surprisingly pleasant view of a neighbourhood garden. She jumped a little when a moment later Andy handed her a cold glass of Pellegrino. Andy would never admit it, but she’d been keeping the bottle of expensive water in the fridge for the past month, living on hope as she always did.

Miranda murmured her thanks and took a few sips as she continued to look out the window. Andy stood beside her, not too closely, allowing the older woman some space, but definitely within her peripheral vision. She waited patiently, content for the moment that Miranda had sought her out. After nearly ten minutes it was Andy’s turn to give a little jump of surprise as Miranda began to speak, even as she maintained her gaze on the garden below.

“You have his eyes.” This first statement was followed by a heart-deep sigh before the older woman continued.

“His beautiful chocolate brown eyes. I think…I think that’s why I hired you that day. It had been nearly 26 years since I’d looked into those eyes, and I… I finally wanted to remember what it had been like.” Holding the glass carefully Miranda wrapped her arms over her chest and shivered before continuing in a voice filled with longing, confusion and a certain amount of incredulity.

“It’s so strange that given the eyes, my thinking of him every time I saw them, your name and how I reacted to it, so strange that I never put the pieces together.”

Bowing her head she added ruefully, “Such is the capacity for humans to blind themselves at will to things they do not wish to see.”

Andy took a step closer and asked, “What about my name?”

Miranda unwrapped her arms, took a long drink and finally turned to face the younger woman. She sought out the eyes she’d been talking about and gave the tiniest of half smiles as she answered.

“You have his eyes, and you have his name.” She watched as those pools of chocolate grew in wonder at this revelation.

“Andrew?”

“Yes, but…” she paused, and this time she did give a little smile. “ I called him Andy.”

The look on the brunette’s face was almost comical as she tried to wrap her mind around this piece of information. She could see now why Miranda had always insisted on calling her by her full name and not the nickname by which every other person in her life addressed her.  As she took this in a soft look stole over her face and she felt a warm tug in her heart. She felt somehow connected to her unknown father, and in some strange corollary she also felt a connection to Miranda because of the specialness of the use of her full name occurring only between the two of them.

“How did I end up keeping the name? I mean it would be too weird if my parents just accidentally picked the same name.” Andy ran her hand through her hair as she pondered this little mystery.

“The name was on your birth certificate, they would have seen that, perhaps they just liked the name and decided to keep it. It would have made the legal fiction of re-producing the certificate that little bit easier as well. I insisted that your name go on the certificate, even though I was going… I had already… I mean…”  Miranda faltered to a stop, unable to finish the sentence or the thought in the face of its subject who was standing right in front of her.

Andy found her bravery and reached out to touch Miranda on the arm and finished the sentence for her, “You’d already decided to give me up.” She said it quietly, and taking a deep breath afterward realised it had been cathartic to say that out loud to the person who had given her life and then shaped it with that decision.

Keeping eye contact, Andy led Miranda to the couch and urged her to sit before joining her and taking hold of her hand. She asked the question that had burned in her mind ever since she was old enough to understand that being adopted not only meant that her Mom had been able to pick her specially to be her little girl, but that her birth mother had given her away rather than have _her_ as her little girl. It was a double edged sword she had balanced on all her life and the question needed to be asked.

“Why?” Despite her best efforts, her genuine desire not to sound accusatory about it, Andy just couldn’t keep her voice was trembling with emotion as she spoke.

The single word was Miranda’s undoing, the tears began to flow as she struggled with her internal conflict, wanting both to run to escape the pain and to reach forward and grab onto her child and never let her go again.  Eventually, she calmed a little and realised that despite what Andy may have said in her letter, that here and now she did owe this explanation to her daughter. Gathering the steal that had garnered her reputation as the Dragon, she faced herself and then began to speak.

“I met Andrew,” she paused and then snorted. “No, I never called him that, ever. I met Andy when we were both in our senior year at college.”  Miranda wove the tale of her first, greatest and some would say only true love, from that first meeting through two months of chasing (him not her), three wonderful years of dating as they completed their degrees and Andy started on his post-graduate degree in English Literature right up to their getting engaged and planning their fairy tale future together.

“We’d already been engaged for three months when I discovered I was pregnant. I had never heard of or seen a man so enamoured of the idea of impending fatherhood.” Miranda paused and took Andy’s hand in hers as she looked at the younger woman to stress her next words.

“He loved you with everything he was from the second I told him I was expecting. He would be so damned proud of you Andrea, so damned proud.” She reached out and stroked the younger woman’s face. “Just as I am.” 

Andy leant into the touch and held Miranda’s hand to her cheek as she soaked in what felt like a lifetime, no two lifetimes of love and affection.  It was amazing to finally be getting all this wonderful information about her father, and her mother, but the question she had asked had not yet been answered and so she remained silent, encouraging Miranda to continue. Miranda took up her story again, but her voice was quiet and the sorrow and pain were living things as she described the day that her world was destroyed.

She was half way through her eighth month of the pregnancy and was staying with her parents at their home in Akron while Andy was in NYC putting the finishing touches on his PhD thesis. The plan had been for him to come out and join her in the first week of April when the baby was due, but he’d finished up early and had decided to come early and surprise her.

On the 10th of March Miranda received the news that the love of her life had been killed in a car accident as he’d driven through a freak March blizzard in Pennsylvania. Miranda had collapsed from the shock and gone into severe a severe state of depression, as far as she was concerned her life was over, she couldn’t imagine a life without her Andy in it. Her parents watched her constantly afraid she might do something to harm herself or the baby.

Once again Miranda paused in the tale as she gathered herself for the final explanation, the admission that would most likely see Andrea kick her out of the apartment and regret her desire to find her birth mother for the rest of her days. Sitting up straight and taking her hands back into her own lap she looked Andy in the eye.

“I didn’t want to live anymore, without Andy there was no point to existing. But…but I couldn’t take your life, I couldn’t sacrifice the baby he had wanted so much. I contacted child services, without my parent’s knowledge and made the biggest mistake of my life, I gave my baby, Andy’s baby… I gave you up for adoption.”  Miranda squeezed her eyes shut as she added the final details of the story in a mere whisper.

“I was out of my mind with grief. I… didn’t intend to be around very long after your birth, I… I was going to follow your father. But I needed to know you’d be taken care of and adoption was the best option. My parents were already in their 70’s, and Dad was already sick, they weren’t a viable option to raise you. I…thought, I thought I was…doing…the right thing.” Her words were now punctuated by soft sobs as her tears fell freely.

“When you were born…they…they never even let me…hold you, they never let me see you. I’ve, I’ve wondered sometimes, if they had, if I’d held you in my arms, would that…” She looked at Andy, saw the tears in those beloved eyes and finished with a last gasp. “Would you that have saved me, I don’t think if I’d held you, I mean I know now, with the…the twins…”

Miranda reached up and dashed away the tears from her eyes and reached out to hold Andy by the upper arms as she growled, “If I’d held you Andrea…Andy, I’d never have let you go!”

Andy pulled her arms away from Miranda’s grasp as she looked into her eyes to gage the truth of her statement, of her story and she found it. The years of wondering, of anger and blaming and yearning and grieving were over, she’d found her mother, and her father, she’d finally found herself. And she was never letting that go. She moved forward and reached up to pull the white haired woman into her arms.

“Then hold me now mother and I won’t let you go.”

And finally, at last, Miranda pulled her daughter, her first born, the child of her greatest love into her arms as she repeated over and over again.

“My baby girl. My Andy.”


End file.
